Beasts of Burden
by Marina Black1
Summary: Mark always knew she'd seek revenge; he just never though she would take her pound of flesh so very literally... *Warning: Dark. Read at your own risk*


Conjugal visits were the only time she could get close enough to really _hurt_ him…

What she was doing wasn't _entirely_ legal…but technicality was hardly a barrier when intimate knowledge of the law and of the people who ran the prison intersected. They held Mark Mardon—also known as the Weather Wizard—in a dark, deep section of Iron Heights, miles beneath gen pop. He couldn't have glimpsed upon the sky even in his wildest dreams. As a matter of fact, he was so far underground she still needed a guide to his cell every single time—or maybe it was simply force of habit.

Each and every month, she executed the same exact routine. The warden was contacted and made aware of her intent to visit. They would write her onto the schedule off-hours to avoid the flurry of traffic that usually occurred on visitation days. She pulled up to the back gate in a rented SUV and flashed her old CCPD badge along with the crumpled yellow permission slip signed by the governor himself. It was her golden ticket to happiness…or at least as close as she could get without actually trying to heal.

A loud buzz echoed across the courtyard as the gate swung open and she was waved through by a guard who never made eye contact. Once she made it inside the walls of Iron Heights, she had to hand over anything she could use to injure him before being admitted into the holding area. It was ironic, really. The prison took her keys and earrings, but they couldn't divest her of the one weapon she had that would hurt him worse than anything else. She was going to bring Mark to his knees and this time, he wasn't going to get back up.

With the formalities settled, an armed escort brought her to an elevator only accessed by a chosen few. It creaked and moaned as they descended deep into the earth. Her stomach was still uneasy when they stepped onto the metal walkway, suspended in midair by thick titanium cord. In all the months she'd been coming here, it had never so much as wobbled; she still kept her eyes dead ahead as if looking down would cause the walkway to fall out from under her.

Mark's cell loomed before her, lit by lanterns at precise intervals leading to the end of the platform. Someone had handwritten ' _Weather Wizard_ ' onto a piece of tape and stuck it onto the placard outside. It made her lip curl in disgust. She refused to call him by that ridiculous nickname. He was only a man and any attempt to elevate his powers or make him seem like a god was infuriating. She grabbed the edge of the tag, ripped it off and crushed it into a tiny ball in her fist before hurling it into the beefy guard at her side cleared his throat and for the first time she actually looked at him. He was in his early fifties and greying at the temples; the smell of his fear was palpable.

"I'll be right outside, Detective Spivot. If you need anything, just give a yell."

"That won't be necessary," Patty replied coldly. "I'm a cop and I'm trained in Krav Maga. If he tries to pull anything, I can handle myself." She pursed her lips into a tight, thin line. "I'd like some privacy."

He barely hesitated. She had all the clearances she needed and nobody liked staying down here. It was dank in this part of Iron Heights. There were rumors that Mark kept it icy just so he could still wield control in his own weak way. Patty knew it wasn't true. He _did_ still have power, but they kept him so doped up with antipsychotics and barbiturates, it was lucky he could still find his ass with both hands and a flashlight. There was no way he was able to generate enough juice to control the temperature. Of course it was cold, they were so far below ground they were practically in a new timezone.

The guard ushered Patty into the cell before the heavy metal door clanged closed behind her and the lock audibly clicked. Mark looked crumpled and broken beneath the too-bright bulbs that had been installed in his cell. The speciality lighting had been Barry's idea. They didn't want this violent metacriminal to be deprived or—worse yet— _depressed_ because he wasn't getting enough sunshine. Honestly, she found the whole thing to be laughable. Mark deserved to be punished for his crimes and sitting pretty in jail wasn't nearly enough to satisfy her. This time, like each time before, Patty perched on the ceramic chair opposite his bed and crossed her legs at the knee.

And then, she waited.

Mark Mardon was a fierce fighter, afraid of no one, and swayed by nothing. Until now. He knew she was there…he just couldn't bring himself to give in so easily. The days blurred together, weeks passed in clumps, but he always knew when she was coming. The day before Patty arrived, he was served his favorite meal: pad thai with shrimp, milk tea, and a fig dessert with honey that melted in his mouth. He hated that she knew him so well. She fattened him up before leading him like a lamb to the slaughter…and he was all too willing to comply.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Mark hunched over with his head in his hands. He inhaled the patchouli in her perfume and he was instantly hard. She'd primed him over so many month until he was like one of Pavlov's dogs; each time he smelled her, he lost control. Patty Spivot was so beautiful…and yet what they had was _so_ ugly. It rotted his soul every time he touched her. As much as he hated himself, he already fumbling for the buttons on his blue DOC issued uniform.

Patty's pouty pink lips curved up into a smile and eagerly followed his lead,. For now she'd let him think this was just a normal visit. She tugged the peach-colored cashmere sweater over her head and folded it neatly before setting it on the chair. She had on a white camisole beneath, which was also removed and placed with the rest of her garments. Mark was already naked and wanting, his blue eyes crackling with electricity. Patty continued to undress methodically, shimmying out of her skirt and laying it out so it wouldn't wrinkle. She stood before him in a powder pink pair of panties and a bralette she'd picked out for this very occasion. Usually she stuck to practical undergarments…but when it came to unraveling Mark Mardon, she was willing to compromise a little.

The chill of the room crept into Patty's bones, pebbling her sensitive nipples as she inched toward the man who she hated even more than she hated herself. He eagerly closed the distance between them without really _looking_ at her. Mark's calloused hands scraped over her delicate skin as he devoured her mouth before turning his attention to her body. This woman was the most perfectly crafted female he'd ever seen and over the last year, he'd come to know her quite intimately. It didn't escape his notice that there was significantly more of her than he was used to…

Mark's vision suddenly blurred as the air was forced out of his lungs. "You _bitch_ …" His tongue was so thick in his mouth that he was afraid he might choke on it. He staggered back, falling onto the bed as he stopped to take in the whole of her. Patty's breasts had gone up nearly a cup since he'd last touched her and her nipples were dark as red wine. It wasn't that which had tipped him off though. Instead of the flat, toned abdomen he was used to, there was an undeniable swell there that could only be a child.

 _His_ child.

Something dark flared to life inside of Mark's chest and he was torn between wanting to pull her down on top of him and wanting to tear her to pieces.

He did neither.

"What have you done?" Mark's voice came out as a haunted whisper, barely audible in the void of this prison cell. But Patty heard him. He knew she had. She inched toward the bed and settled down beside him, her hand sliding over the undeniable proof of their union. Mark couldn't stop staring. " _Why_ , Patty?"

"You know why…" Patty's voice might've been level and cool, but she was shaking on the inside. "I didn't have a mom growing up. She left when I was a kid. So, it was just me and my dad against the world." A watery smile spread over her face and the tears fell before she could stop them. She wanted to blame it on the hormones, but it was something that had been festering inside of her for much longer than that. "You and your brother walked into a bank and shot an innocent man in the face for no reason! It was a cruel, senseless act of violence."

Patty gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on her belly as she stared down at a fierce, protectiveness flared to life inside her. "You took away the only family I had left and now I'm doing the same thing to you." She dug her nails into his shoulder, forcing him to hold her gaze. "Take a good, long look, Mark, because is the last time I'm ever coming here."

Panic curled in Mark before he had a chance to catch his breath. "I knew you were warped, but to get knocked up just so you could _kill_ my child—"

"No!" Patty snarled. She jerked away as if he'd struck her with lightning. Even as she moved toward the shadows, it was obvious she was trembling. "I'd never _hurt_ him. This baby is my blood, my legacy, my _only_ family…" Moving back toward the chair, she started tugging her clothes back on. Patty wasn't even certain now why she'd removed them in the first place…

Maybe it was because she ached to be touched. She had been so lonely since her father died. Patty needed human contact, even if it came from a monster. She tried to convince herself this was all part of the plan. She had to make love to him until she had leverage…but she was almost four months pregnant now. The last three times she'd come here, she already knew his seed had already taken root inside of her. Patty told herself she needed to make sure, there was still a risk the pregnancy wouldn't take or something could happen. Now, there was no denying it. Patty was the picture of health and the baby was getting bigger every minute…

The only thing left to do was inform the father-to-be and destroy Mark Mardon forever. She truly thought watching him crumble would make her feel better.

But it didn't.

Mark's skin was unnaturally pale and he slumped over like a man who'd just seen a ghost. Ice blue eyes were red-rimmed and half-obscured by shaggy dark hair. They sat in silence for what felt like days before she moved toward the sink. Patty attempted to fix her hair in the distorted reflection of his prison mirror. He watched her every motion, unable to tear his focus away. From the side, it was even more obvious she was pregnant and it tore a hole in Mark's chest. He slid behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and cradling the babe within. Had it really only been a month since he'd last seen her?

"Don't do anything stupid," Patty warned, covering his hand with hers to halt his exploration. "If you try hurt it, I swear I—" her voice cracked painfully, "I'll kill you."

"I'm not going to hurt our baby, Patty—" Mark started.

"He's _mine_ ," she interrupted.

" _Ours_ ," he argued, narrowing his eyes. Patty attempted to pull away from him but he boxed her in. "I don't understand you." He reached out, cupping her cheek while his other hand rubbed circles over the expanse of her belly. "You could've had _everything_ : a husband, a white picket fence, a _real_ family. Why choose this life? Why do this to yourself?" He hated how desperate he sounded, how weak…but he had to know. "Can you even love a child that's half mine?"

Patty inclined her head and her lips curved up; it was the only time she'd ever genuinely smiled in his presence. "I can," she whispered, "I _do_." Mark's reaction to all of this was something she'd dreamed about for so long…and she wasn't sure what she expected. She also wasn't sure if she was disappointed. Words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them, "I just bought a little house in Midway City. You see, I don't need a husband to get my own white picket fence." She leaned into his touch, feeling wistful all of a sudden. "It has this big wraparound porch and plenty of space in the backyard for the retired police dog I just adopted. His name is Duke and I swear he's as big as I am…but the gentlest giant you ever met."

Mark felt his throat growing tight again as she described the life she'd share with his child…a life he would never be a part of because he was sentenced to a lifetime in this prison cell.

"It's in a really good school district and, oh! I nearly forgot my favorite part. There's a playground across the street where all the neighborhood kids play together. It's idyllic…" Patty caught a tear before it slithered down her cheek. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "We're going to have such a happy little life, my son and I." She glanced over her shoulder, watching Mark's hand curl at his chest in a vain attempt to keep his heart from shattering. "He's never going to know you. He's never going to know what kind of a monster you are…" Patty could near the footsteps of the guard returning and she tugged away from him. "I hope you think about that every single night before bed, I hope it wakes you up every morning. You're never, ever going to hurt me again."

He wanted to scream at her how he deserved to know his child, to be a part of their lives…but he _didn't_ deserve it. Mark Mardon had been twisted long before the particle accelerator exploded; what he turned into after was so much worse. As his power grew, he began to forget that collateral damage had consequences. The people he killed had friends, neighbors, _daughters_ …wonderful, beautiful women like Patty Spivot whose grief grew into unspeakable rage. Mark always knew she'd seek revenge; he just never though she would take her pound of flesh so very literally.

The guard's voice boomed through the door of the cell, his taser at the ready. "Get to the back of the cell, hands above your head," the voice demanded. " _Now_ , Mardon!"

Mark did as he was told, resting his palms flat against the wall. He glanced over his shoulder, aching to hold her there a moment longer. "You think you've gotten what you want, blood for blood. Just remember something, Patty… that's _my_ child. It carries my DNA. He might look like me, talk like me, _be_ like me…" She froze halfway to the door, her eyes widening. "I have something to fight for now. I'm never going to stop trying to escape and if— _when_ —I do, I'm going to come for you. I'm going to be part of my his life. I'm going to make you _mine_ …"

Patty tugged her jacket over her shoulders, teeth gritted in anger. "Keep dreaming, Mark. You've lost. You're never going to be free." Even as she said it, she couldn't help but wonder if he was right. The odds of keeping Mark Mardon locked down here forever were slim…but even so, she couldn't help but feel the slightest flutter of hope. If—when—he did come for them, Patty would be ready. And this time, nobody would stand in her way of revenge.

The last image Patty had of the Weather Wizard was when his cell door slammed shut and locked, he rushed to it, his eyes sparking with vigor. It was suddenly twenty degrees warmer…or maybe it was her imagination. Turning on her heel, she walked down the corridor until she reached the elevator. She kept her eyes on the sky, knowing Mark Mardon was obscured by tons of concrete below her but still wondering if he was responsible for the sudden drop in barometric pressure. Once she'd collected her personal items, Patty slipped into her rented SUV and watched lightning strike in the distance. There was a storm coming tonight and she was headed right into it…

Long after Patty was tucked safely in bed, thunder continued to rumble over Midway City. Mark paced his cell like a caged animal, no longer blunted by his own complacency. He had been cooperative for too long. For Patty and his unborn child, he needed to get out of here. It might take a month, a year, or a decade but he wasn't going to rest until he took back the family she'd stolen from him…

Nothing was going to stand in his way.


End file.
